Forget Me Not
by Reiko Katsura
Summary: Complete. Harry Potter has been married, with children, to Severus Snape for six years. The only problem? Now he can't remember even a second of it. HP/SS. Snarry. NonMpreg.
1. He Forgets Me

**Forget Me Not**

_by Reiko Katsura_

**Series**: Harry Potter

**Pairings**: Harry/Snape

**Rating**: K+

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter. NCCI.

**Summary**: What is Harry to do when he can't remember being married to Snape for the life of him? And who are those kids calling him "Daddy"? What the hell is going on? HP/SS. SLASH. Non MPREG.

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**A/N: I know! Another Harry Potter Fan Fic? Well, yes, actually. I've been writing this one for a little while now, and I already have the entire thing planned. This will be broken up into two chapters. The second part is already half written. Nothing original, but still incredibly fun to write.**

Please enjoy "Forget Me Not"!

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**::PART ONE::**

* * *

The sun was beaming in the early morning. Streaks of light were pouring through dark blue curtains, and illuminating the room in strips of shine. The sound of chirping flowed from the outside morning, past the glass stained windows and into the room, and Harry couldn't help but bask in placid quiet of early dawn.

Yawning once more, Harry Potter stretched his limbs and smiled lazily. He couldn't remember the last time that he felt so utterly comfortable. He reached across the bed, towards the bedside table, and grabbed at his wand from atop a stack of paperwork and files. Tossing the realization that he had not even started on the pile of work he was assigned to complete to the back of his mind, Harry spelled the curtains to close tighter, in an attempt to block out the sun that was warming his face, and hurting his eyes. As much as he loved the morning and the rising sun, Harry felt no desire to leave the comfort of his bed. Instead, he tossed his wand back on top of the desk, and curled in closer to the center of the bed.

And that's when he felt it.

Frowning, Harry pushed closer into the middle, only to realize that there was something hindering his movements. With his eyes still shut, Harry began to grope at the thing before him. Well, it certainly was warm–– whatever it was.

It wasn't until Harry's hands began to feel something hair like, that Harry froze his hands movements.

Gulping, he moved the tips of his fingers further down the threads of what felt like hair, and swallowed hard when his hands roamed over what felt awfully similar to eyes, and then a nose, and then lips. Harry allowed his hands to rest on what he thought was the nose, and gasped when a trickle of breath washed over his peach-colored skin.

Bracing himself, Harry opened his eyes slowly, and let his mouth fall open when an very familiar and unwanted pair of dark, obsidian eyes stared back at him.

Harry Screamed.

Without thinking, he pushed himself off the bed, regardless that the fall to the floor would be a painful one, and scrambled to the wall like a backwards, upside down crab.

"W-wh-what?!" Harry stammered incoherently, and stared at the pale, seemingly naked man who had pulled himself up from the covers and was staring at him with a confused, bemused expression.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Snape questioned, startled by the mans' behavior.

"What am _I _doing? What the hell are _you _doing, Snape?"

Snape looked down at a scowling Harry inquiringly, and rose a brow, as if the man before him was insane, "Did you hit your head when you fell, Harry?"

"What the hell are you doing in my bed, Snape?!" Harry all but roared, his arms shaking in anger and confusion. What the _hell _was Snape doing in his bed? Why the hell was Snape even in his _room_?!

"Harry," Harry shuddered at the way his given name rolled off of his most hated teachers' tongue, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Outraged, Harry snarled, "What's wrong with _me_? What's wrong with _you_? What the hell are you doing in _my _house?!" Harry was screaming by the end of his rant, but his anger soon faded by the obviously bewildered expression on his usually stoic Potions Professor.

"Harry…if this is some game, you had better quit it this instant." The glare that Harry was so accustomed to loyally returned on Snape's face, but Harry couldn't deny the flash of panic that flashed in the older man's irises.

"No, _you _had better quit this, Snape," Harry corrected, his voice resuming a snarl, "what I want to know is why in Merlins' hell are you _naked _in my bed?"

Snape looked to be at a complete loss of words. He stared at Harry dumbly for a few moments, his mouth opening on several occasions and then closing quickly after, until he pulled the pale blue blankets off himself and stood up.

"Oh Merlin!" Harry shrieked, and covered his eyes as a very naked Snape descended from the covers. He was seeing far too much white for his liking.

Snape gave Harry another curious expression, then turned around to wrap a black robe around his figure. When he was securely dressed, he cleared his throat and waited for Harry to peak through his fingers to assure that he was covered, like a child would when watching a Horror movie, and turned to him when Harry dropped his hands in obvious relief.

"Harry… I think there's something wrong with you." Snape said bluntly, moving to step closer to the younger man, but stopping short when Harry glared.

"Fine Harry," Snape sighed, covering his face with his hands in aggravation, "Now, could you _please _stop whatever prank it is that you are trying to pull, because honestly, it's not funny."

When Snape turned to look at Harry, he frowned at his disbelieving expression.

"_Me_? A joke? Not funny?" The golden was scowling furiously at Snape, "And what the hell are you trying to pull by waking up in my bed! What the hell are you trying to do by slipping in beside me naked…"

As if realization dawned upon Harry, his green eyes opened widely and his mouth fell open unceremoniously, "O-oh Merlin… you wouldn't… you couldn't… Merlin…"

At Harry's assumption, Snape paled a shade and his obsidian orbs widened in horror.

"Harry, you couldn't possibly believe that I would…"

"Don't come near me!" Harry shouted at Snape's forthcoming, "I swear to God, if you come even a step closer to me that I will hex you goddamn balls off!"

And just like that, Harry Potter apparated from where he sat and disappeared, leaving his husband to stare at the spot where he vanished at in astonishment.

* * *

Harry couldn't, for the life of him, stop fidgeting as he sat in Ron and Hermione's small kitchen. The warm cup of Coffee was quivering in his hands, and his legs couldn't stop from bouncing in anxiety. Ron and Hermione sat in front of him, clad in sleeping robes and faces stunned.

"Could… could you repeat that again, Mate?" Ron asked, seeming startled.

Sighing, Harry repeated his tale of what had happened.

"I come home from work at the ministry, slip into my bed for a good nights rest, wake up in the morning and see _Snape _in my bed! _Naked _in my bed!"

Ron paled, and put a hand over his eyes as if trying to execute any image of Harry's confession. "Please refrain from elaborating, Harry." He groaned, pleadingly.

Hermione elbowed Ron sharply, in which he winced, and said, "Harry… I don't understand, honestly."

Harry stared at Hermione in awe. Could so many years out of school really kill brain cells?

He would have to ask someone about that.

"I don't know how many times I'm going to have to explain it!" Harry snapped, and set his cup down onto the table. "Why, in Merlin's name, aren't you guys shocked about this!" He accused. What was wrong with them? They should have been horrified!

"Why _would_ we be?" Hermione frowned, and cocked her head to the side in confusion. Her eyes were scrutinizing Harry's face, and her expression was calculating. Under her gaze, Harry felt like an unknown specimen ready to be cut open and observed.

"Because _Snape_ was in my bed? The last time I checked, that was all the reason you needed!"

Bewildered would have been an understatement, if one where to categorize Harry as such at the moment. He couldn't fathom _why_ his two best friends weren't running around in a mortified panic, as he was just about ready to do.

"Harry… is something wrong with you?" The words that came from Ron's mouth where slow and deliberate, like he was speaking to a child.

"Is something _wrong _with me? Oh, nothing. What could possibly be wrong with me besides _having Snape naked and in my bed!" _Harry all but shouted. He ran his fingers through his unruly hair, which only caused to dishevel it further, but he didn't care. Something was off about all of this. Something was up, and he needed to figure out what it was.

"Harry… you do know who Severus is, don't you?"

Harry gaped at Hermione, and spluttered, "S-S-S-S-Severus? _Severus_? Since when have you been on a first name basis with Professor _Snape_?!"

Both Ron and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance, and Hermione returned to Harry and pressed, "Listen, Harry, just answer me. What was the last thing you remember about Severus."

Harry was about to open his mouth to question Hermione once again about the use of his first name, but shut it quickly enough when she sent a bone chilling glare at him that basically screamed, _Another word and I will gut you. _

Swallowing hard, Harry closed his eyes to think, and then opened them as he gave his answer, "Seventh year at Hogwarts. Graduation."

Again, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, only this time with stunned expressions, and then she continued to press, "And what happened to you after that?"

Harry scowled, and wondered where Hermione was going with this, but answered her questions nonetheless, "A year after graduation I applied for a job at the Ministry. I studied to be an auror for a year, but quit training when I realized that I had enough of fighting dark wizards and criminals. I then tried my hand at Quidditch, but didn't even make it to the final tryouts when I realized that I couldn't see myself playing for a living. Ron was disappointed at that." Harry sent Ron a sheepish grin, but it faded when he realized that neither Ron or Hermione were smiling. They were far from it, in fact.

"Go on." The witch ushered.

Frowning, Harry continued, "I went back to the Ministry, and applied for a job at the Department of Dark Artifacts and Items. That was the time when you and Ron had Rose. It was there that I met Helda Harmstroth. I dated her for about a month, but it didn't work out. I haven't dated since, for some reason. I've been working as the head of the Department of Dark Artifacts and Items for seven years since then, and I'm madly in love with my job."

Harry finished his story, and warily took in his two best friends shocked expressions.

"I-is that all you remember, Harry?" Ron stammered, looking extremely shaken.

Harry nodded his head. What the bloody hell was going on?

"So you don't remember anything else? Nothing important? Nothing _really _important?"

Resuming a frown, Harry snapped, "Important like what?"

"Harry, look at your left hand." Hermione advised, her expression grave.

With an uplifted brow, Harry glanced down at his hands which were laid out flat upon the table face, and choked on his intake of breath as a strip of silver and gold caught his attention. His mouth fell open, and green eyes opened wide as they roamed over his left hand that bore a very delicate looking gold ring, with silver thread entwining it and small, diamond chips embedded.

If Harry didn't know any better, he would have thought it was a––

"It's your wedding ring, Harry."

Harry looked up at Hermione in shock, and shook his head hard to clear his mind.

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. What would I be doing with a wedding ring?" He laughed at that, but it was a tight, uncertain and shaky laugh.

He gulped again, and looked down at the ring once more. Feeling a rush of determination, with shaky fingers, Harry tried to pull the band from his skinny ring finger, but the bloody piece of metal wouldn't even _budge _at Harry's hard tugging.

"Why isn't this piece of junk coming off?!" He demanded, and pulled out his wand. Harry muttered a _removal charm_ under his breath, and scowled when nothing happened. With a flick of his wand and another murmured incantation, a warm, clear liquid fell onto his finger, and Harry tried to ease the ring off. It didn't work.

"Wedding rings don't come off, Harry. Once you said your vowels and exchanged rings, the ring came onto you and made itself apart of your flesh."

"I can't be married, Hermione! I think I would remember if I had!"

"No, Harry, I don't think you do. Not by that summary of your life you just gave us. I don't know what happened, Harry, but I think you lost a part of your memory."

Harry gaped at the bushy haired witch. That couldn't be possible! How could he have lost his––

Oh!

Harry closed his eyes as he remembered the Dark Artifact that had been sent to his department. He recalled he and his two partners–– a witch named Ivory Whitlock and a wizard named Harris Hasburry–– had opened the box that contained the dark artifact, and that Ivory had dropped the item by accident, and that a bright yellow light erupted from the silver box. He recalled jumping in front of Ivory who hadn't had time to pull up her shields, and how the light had momentarily engulfed him.

But he had been examined and tested afterwards, and the healers couldn't find a shred of dark magic, let alone anything else, afterwards, and everyone just shrugged the entire thing off. The artifact was put back into its box, and stored away for future examination.

"By the look on your face, I'm guessing that you became aware of what might have happened to you." Hermione guessed.

Harry nodded grimly, and explained to Hermione and Ron what had happened at the lab.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione groaned, and shook her head, "You shouldn't have done that. With Voldemort dead, I would have figured you gave up your heroic acts long ago."

Flushing in embarrassment, Harry glanced down at his left hand once again and sighed. Did the artifact cause him to lose his memory? But if it had, why had he only forgotten that he was married? He wasn't oblivious to the knowledge that there were dark items that could indeed remove and alter a persons memory. But could an artifact even be _capable_ of selecting a specific memory?

He would have to look into that.

With another sigh, Harry looked up at his two friends with a defeated expression and groaned, "So who's the lucky girl?"

"What?" Ron asked, frowning.

"The lucky girl? The one I married?" He elaborated, extremely eager to find out who he had married. He didn't show it on his face, of course, but he was an inch away from slamming his hands on the table in anxiety when Ron hesitated to answer.

"Er… not a girl?" His statement sounded so much like a question, that Harry was wondering if Ron was actually asking him instead. That worry died, however, when his best mate's words finally sunk in.

"Merlin, no!"

If it was possible, Harry sunk even further into his chair. He buried his face into his hands and let out a groan of anguish. He was married to a _bloke?! _Was that even _possible?!_

"It's not so bad, Harry." Hermione offered, trying to comfort her friend at least a little, as he was falling further and further into the pit of self pity and doom, "Same sex males aren't that rare in the Wizarding World."

When Harry gave her a skeptical glare, Hermione smiled sheepishly and amended "Okay, well, it's not terribly popular, either, but it _is_ known to happen. There are a lot of Witches and Wizards who have same sex lovers, but not many are brave enough to actually get married since it's pretty much frowned upon by pure blood and muggle born members of society. I think there are about five same sex married couples in Wizarding Britain, not including yourself and your partner. Of course, you had an easier time of it than most. After all, after you saved the Wizarding World from the wrath of Voldemort and all, no one would even _dare_ say anything too horrible about you. There was some talk during the beginning stages of your marriage, but it died down soon enough. The world owes you too much to give you trouble about who you decide to marry."

Hermione looked positively smug at the end of that, and her eyes held a self satisfied smirk. "The one's who _did _try to start trouble about it, shut up soon enough."

The glint in her brown eyes made Harry wonder if Hermione had been the one who helped those who protested against him to shut up. He wouldn't put it past her.

Harry took a moment of silence to try and get used to the idea that he was gay, and married to a man, at that. No matter how much he tried to consider himself with another bloke, he just couldn't imagine it without wincing. How was this even possible? He had only ever dated or kissed girls! Cho Chang, Ginny Weasley, Helda Harmstroth…

See? No guys.

_Except the one you're married to, _A sardonic voice in his head pointed out.

Harry groaned again. He couldn't even imagine being happy with another man. Or doing things with someone of his own sex. How was that even possible!

Apparently he had been talking out loud, because Hermione answered him.

"You always said that it didn't matter to you if your lover was a man, woman or even goblin. That it was because it was _him, _and because he was special, and that nothing else mattered."

As romantic as that may have sounded, Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes at his unremembered self.

"So who was it then?" Harry forced the words to come out, and immediately regretted it when both Hermione and Ron looked away from him.

_Oh bloody hell! What could be worse than finding out I'm married to a _man_?!_

"I really don't think anything else you tell me at this point would surprise me more than finding out I'm married, and to another bloke, at that." He pointed out, and waited for his friends to answer him. After some time, Ron's mouth moved, but what he said was so low that Harry didn't even have a hope of hearing him.

"What was that?"

"Honestly, Harry! Could you be any more blind?" Hermione snapped, though she looked less irritated than she was exasperated, "Who else would you find sleeping naked in your bed when you woke up?"

Harry stared at her, dumbstruck, and jumped from his chair in alarm as a recollection of waking up beside his former, and very much hated, Potions Professor, came flooding into his head.

"You must be joking! I'm married to _Snape?!" _He shrieked, the little color on his face fading entirely.

Hermione nodded and rose a brow, "Took you long enough to connect the dots. Though, I should be fair and say that you've heard a lot of overwhelming things in the past half hour."

"You cant be serious." Harry whispered.

Ron felt immediate pity towards his friend. His voice was desperate, and pleaded with them to tell him different. Well, Ron _had _warned him about marrying the greasy git in the first place. If he had listened to him, he wouldn't be a second away from having a heart attack at the present.

Deciding it was best if his best male friend confirmed it, Ron nodded and said, in a tone that was more than apologetic, "Sorry, mate, but it's true. You've been married to the greasy git for six years."

Hermione once again elbowed her stupid husband in the side, and hissed something that sounded an awful lot like "What did I tell you about calling Harry's husband that, Ronald?", but Harry was too far into his own shock to hear anything else after that.

He was married to Snape. To his old, hated Potions Professor. To the man who made his life hell at Hogwarts. To the man who hated him just because he hated his father.

He was married to Professor Snape.

"Oh, don't look like it's the end of the world, Harry. It might seem like a shock to you now, but you'll get over it soon. You have been together for seven years now."

Swallowing deeply, and clutching onto the end of the table for dear life, Harry whispered, "But I thought you said I was with him for six years."

"You've been _married_ for six years. You guys dated for a year before that. Actually, you guys were at if for five months before you started dating that Hellish Helda Harmstroth. You never got into specifics about why you broke up in the first place, but I know that you did. It didn't work out with Helda, and a few weeks later, you and Severus went back together. Got married a couple of months afterwards."

For all Harry knew, Hermione was talking about a completely different person. And Merlin, Harry wished she were.

The sound of a door opening pulled Harry from his thoughts, and he turned around to see three small figures coming out into the kitchen. The first girl, Harry noticed. Red hair that flowed to her shoulders, soft freckled skin and sleepy, drooping brown eyes, indicated that she was indeed Ron and Hermione's seven year old daughter Rose.

The two other kids, however, held no such indication. Twin brunettes looked up at Harry, and the former Boy-who-lived nearly fell to the floor in shock as a chorus of "Daddy!" erupted in the kitchen. It took everything he had not to fall over as the kids slammed into him and hugged his waist tightly.

Fighting the urge to step away, Harry looked over at Hermione with panic in his eyes, and voiced out, "What?"

Hermione shook her head, and simply said, "I should have known that you wouldn't remember being a father, either."

And the next words the witch said was a spell to close Harry's gaping mouth.

* * *

Severus Snape had gone into a near panic when his husband disappeared from their house, in his pajamas, at five o'clock in the morning. It wasn't normal for him to fall into shock as he did, and he chastised himself for it when he returned to normalcy afterwards. Or as normal as he could have been after the stunt his spouse just played.

For minutes, reasoning and explanations filled his mind, and Snape had evaluated each one to fish out and decide on the most plausible one to Harry's behavior. In the end, the assumption that Harry had hit his head at work and gotten amnesia was the most believable one. And then he realized what Harry having amnesia meant, and he once again fell into anxiety and urgency.

He tried his best to make rational, well thought out moves when he had calmed down even a little. He spend nearly an hour trying to decide his next move, and wondering where Harry might have gone if he had indeed lost his memories.

Snape had never felt so stupid when he though about the Weasley's.

It took every ounce of restraint he had not to slap his hand across his head, or scream in frustration. He quickly opened up the floo network in his study, and tried connecting it to the Weasley's house. It didn't connect.

Growling in frustration, he ran to his room and quickly pulled on a pair of clean robes. Before he apparated out of the house, he paused briefly to consider storming into the Weasley's house. For all he knew, the pair could be occupied in certain night time activities–– ones that he had no desire to see or interrupt. It was early morning, yes, but Snape was no stranger to _playing_ at this time, or any time, for that matter, of day.

And then he remembered that his kids–– Amethyst and Julius––had slept over the Weasley's last night. And if they so happened _to_ be doing anything inappropriate with his children in the house, well then, Snape would finally have the reason to hex the male Weasley to oblivion.

And there was also the high chance that Harry was indeed there.

Feeling more assured, Snape apparated from his house to right outside the weak wards of the Weasley home, that would alert him of his presence. He didn't even bother knocking. A few minutes later the large, white door opened, and Hermione stepped out to greet him.

"Severus. Good Morning." She greeted.

After a good two years of his and Harry's marriage, Snape had finally conceded to calling his former student by her first name, because she was Harry's best friend, and because she was the godmother of his children, and because he was expecting to see a lot of her in the future, and because, if he was honest with himself, he didn't mind the clever witches' presence _too much_, and was reluctant to admit that the woman made had some rather interesting comments and theories on Potions at times.

"Hermione." he greeted, trying to force down the anxiety that was just waiting to bubble out.

The witch rose a brow at Snape's failure to remain patient, and said, "Yes, Harry is here."

And that was all the welcome Snape needed. He brushed past her, and nearly ran to the back of the house when Hermione yelled out from behind him, "Kitchen!".

With a pounding heart, Snape pulled open the door to the kitchen, and stopped in his tracks at the sight of his husband, two kids, and Rose and Ron sitting at the table, all holding a cup of what Snape assumed to be coffee or tea for the adults, and hot chocolate for the kids.

At his entrance, Harry looked up, and his eyes widened at the sight of Snape.

Snape breathed a sigh of relief that Harry _was_ here, and stepped further into the kitchen when Hermione softly urged him further so she, too, could come in.

Two pairs of hazel eyes looked up, and brightened immediately.

"Papa!"

On instinct, Snape bent down to his knees as the young boy and girl flew from the table and into his arms, and he wrapped his longer limbs around the two of them tightly.

Snape wasn't a man that approved of showing emotions in front of others, but when it came to his children, he found that he couldn't help it. No matter who it was, or where it was, he always found himself being swept by their charm, and couldn't, for the life of him, hide his affection or adoration for them.

"Amethyst, Julius," he whispered as he held them, and closed his eyes as the warmth of his twins in his arms flooded through his body like lukewarm fire, "Good morning."

"Morning, Papa!" They chorused.

Smiling softly, Snape released his grip on them, and watched with a smile as they scurried back to the table and into their seats.

"G'morning, uncle Sevy," little Rose beamed from her chair.

Snape walked over to her and ruffled her reddish-brown curls with his hands. Rose was not his child, but he didn't deny that he cared deeply for the girl. She was just as intelligent and witty as her mother, and it was probably because of that that Snape didn't seem to mind her at all.

After a nod to Ron, who returned it, he pushed away all other thoughts and would be distractions, and set out to do what he had come to do. His eyes turned on Harry, and his brows lifted at the shock on Harry's face.

Feeling amused, anxious and nervous all at once, Snape cleared his throat to remove whatever it was that was stuck there–– to no avail–– and said, "I think we should talk in private, Harry."

Snape wasn't unaware of the way his lovers Adams apple rose and dropped as he gulped, or even at the loss of a shade of color his face underwent. He could almost hear the mans heart beating rapidly in his chest. Or perhaps that was his own heart?

He opted for both.

Harry nodded, and stood from his chair solemnly, as if he were marching off to his death. Well, by the look of it, at least he appeared to be calmer than he was an hour and a half ago. At the moment, Snape favored the man's gloom rather than his previous anger and aggravation.

"You can use the library." Hermione offered.

Snape nodded his appreciation, and left the kitchen, with Harry following behind him steadily. They walked up a flight of stairs, and into an extremely large room that looked very much like the library at Hogwarts. There were shelves and shelves of books that crossed and stretched, and some that even intertwined. This wasn't the first time that Snape had been in Hermione's library. Admittedly, he was very fond of this part of the house. Not only because the witch had a rather impressive collection on a variety of books of different genres, topics, types and subjects, but because he also knew that Ron Weasley had never once stepped foot into it.

Both men filed further into the library, and took a seat at a rather large desk. Their chairs were facing each other, but was nearly five feet apart; separated by the table itself.

"Harry––" Snape started, but was immediately cut off by the younger man.

"We're married." It was a statement rather an a question, but Snape nodded, nevertheless.

"And the two children down there–– Amethyst and Julius–– are ours?"

Snape nodded again.

Harry let out a deep, almost painful breath, and moved his eyes up to look at Snape.

"I don't remember," he admitted, licking his lips, "I think it had something to do with an accident that happened in our department, and apparently, it jigged some parts of my memory. All I know so far, or don't remember anyways, is that you and I are married, and that we have two adopted children."

Snape nodded again, and felt himself gulp at the intensity of Harry's bright, emerald eyes. That was one of the things Snape loved most about Harry. His eyes were always the most open, brilliant thing about him. He could drown in them, melt in them, become aroused by them, fear them, be held by them, be loved by them–– they were captivating.

"I really can't believe we're married," Harry's laugh was dry and held no amusement, "I almost died of a heart attack when Ron and Hermione told me, actually."

Snape felt a tug at his heart, and held back a wince.

"To think that I married the person I hated most in Hogwarts!"

Now, that one _really _hurt. As much as he tried, Snape couldn't cover the pain that flickered on his face.

It was one thing to joke about the past with Harry, but another thing for Harry to bring it up in a voice that was filled with mock and resentment. Snape had worked hard to get Harry, and it was a painful revelation–– knowing that he was back to where it all started.

Harry must have noticed the pain that flashed as his expression, because he sighed again, and apologized. "I'm sorry, Snape. I just can't get used to the idea."

Snape nodded, both knowingly and bitterly. Knowingly, because he knew that if their positions had been reversed, he would have reacted in the same way. Bitterly, because it hurt either way.

"D-do…" Snape swallowed again, and tried to get the full of his voice back, "Do you know how long this…memory loss of yours will last?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I don't. I'll head out to the department today, and look further into the artifact I think did this."

A moment of silence, and then, "Do you think it could be permanent?"

"I don't know." Harry admitted honestly. He wished, though, with all his heart, that it wasn't. He'd rather have his memories return to him and revert to his days of happiness and bliss, then not have them return, and live life with two children and a husband that he knew absolutely nothing about.

"I see."

More silence ensued, before Harry finally built the courage to ask Snape the one question that he'd been thinking since he found out that they were married.

"How did you and I… g-get together?" Harry asked lowly, and flushed when Snape looked at him with a raised brow.

It was Snape's turn to sigh. "It was at Albus's 120th birthday. I should have figured that you didn't remember that day, or at least all of it, since that was the start of our current relationship. You and I were both invited, naturally, though there was probably a lot more force on my part. The Weasley twins, idiots as they are, decided to spike the punch with a liquid very similar to Veritaserum, though instead of saying the absolute truth, the consumer would voice out whatever it is they were thinking."

Snape closed his eyes in disgust, as if he were replaying some of the things that had been said at the party, but continued, "It was a real disaster. Nearly everyone there had been drinking the punch, and all of a sudden, we were all voicing our thoughts. Many people tried to run, but the twins also thought it was funny to block all the escape routes there. We were, quite literally, stuck like flies in a spiders web.

"You and I just so happened to bump into each other in an empty room in Albus's manor." Snape couldn't stop the smirk that pulled on his lips at the memory, "You were thinking about how much of a greasy git you thought I was, and I was thinking about how much of a spoiled, pathetic, unintelligent brat you were."

Snape's smirk broadened to an all out grin at Harry's scowl.

"And then you though that my hair wasn't _that_ greasy, and so I returned that with the thought that perhaps you weren't as spoiled as I liked to believe. Our thoughts continued to run in that direction, until we were––albeit reluctantly–– thinking that the other wasn't so bad. I found myself smiling at that, and you, in turn, thought that you liked my smile. I liked your eyes, and you liked my hands."

Harry was positively stunned at their advancement. Had that actually _happened?_

"I thought you were charming, you thought I could be sexy, at times."

The smirk returned at Harry's immediate flush.

"You thought I had nice lips, I thought you did, too. You though you'd like to feel those lips, and I thought you couldn't have been more right. After a rather long kissing session, the effects of the potion finally began to fade, and you asked me if I'd like to have dinner. I agreed, of course. We went out a few times after that, for dinner or lunch, or just a make out scene in a secluded place."

Both of them were blushing by then.

"In the next month, I asked you out. You agreed. We've been together ever since."

Harry… was stumped. That was impossible. It had to be lie. Had to! How could things have actually gone that way, and especially between two people who had a past like theirs? Snape must have been making it up.

"I can tell that you don't believe me, but I'm telling you the truth, Harry." Snape was looking at Harry with such earnest in his eyes that Harry was having trouble sticking to his prior convincement.

"I'm not lying. Truthfully, I don't understand how that happened, either. Perhaps it happened because of the openness that we were both experiencing, of having our thoughts laid out. Perhaps it was because that we were both consumed a bit of alcohol. Perhaps we never really hated each other as much as we though we did when you were my student. I don't know why it happened, Harry. All I know is that it did. At that time, even the thoughts that you were twenty whole years younger than me, or that you were my student, didn't matter. All that mattered was our honesty. All that mattered was that we both wanted to find out more about each other. All that mattered was that in the end, it just didn't matter, because we were both together."

Obsidian eyes met emerald orbs, and Harry couldn't help but notice the difference in Snape. For starters, Harry had to admit that even his appearance had changed. Snape looked _young_. More so than he did in Hogwarts. His eyes were warmer than he had ever remembered them, and he wore more expressions than Harry thought he was capable of. His hair, honestly, didn't look as greasy as it had in Hogwarts, either. It was pulled back into a tail, with only two strips of clean black hair spilling down the side of his face.

"You've changed." Harry blurted out.

Snape simply smiled, which was more proof of just how much the man had changed. "Of course I have. Happiness does that to a person."

Nodding, Harry continued, "You said that we were together ever since, but that isn't exactly true. What about Helda Harmstroth?"

Harry didn't miss the cold fury that passed in Snape's eyes, either.

"Ah. _Her._" He sneered, looking very much like the Snape that Harry remembered from Hogwarts. "And here I've been trying so desperately hard to forget her."

Harry bit his lip in uncertainty, but chose to press. "What happened? I remember going out with her for a time when I first joined the department, and I knew we broke up, but I couldn't remember _why_. Hermione told me that you and I broke up shortly before that, and then got together afterwards. But I want to know _why _we broke up."

Snape stared at Harry, and only sighed when he saw the fierce determination in his eyes.

"You wanted marriage and children, I did not. You threatened to go and find someone who would give you what you wanted, I didn't listen, and you left. A week later I found out that you were dating that little _tramp_," Snape growled in vehemence, "to spite me. You went out with her for a month before she decided to make things more physical. You slept with her, and she broke up with you the night after because–– how did she phrase it–– ah, you were a 'terrible lay'."

Harry was blushing in mortification by then. A bad lay? How embarrassing could that have been?

"I admit that I was actually happy about that," Snape admitted, causing Harry to glare, "but I hated that she hurt you by spreading those rumors. It was obvious that you would be bad for a woman, since you've only ever done it with a man."

Again, both adults blushed. Snape couldn't fathom _why_ exactly he was going around like a virgin school girl and blushing every time he said something that was led towards the direction or topic of sex. It was probably because he was talking to a Harry who did not remember him, or remembered the intimacy between them, that caused him to be so embarrassed.

"Two weeks after that, I owled you so that we could talk. You apologized for going out with someone else, and admitted to having slept with her. Of course, you also mentioned that it was so bad _because_ it wasn't me––" Snape smirked, "–– and we talked about both our situation. You wanted marriage and children, and I was scared of complete commitment and of being a father, which led to my past of having a horrible one. I promised to be more open minded about it, and we got back together. Four months later, I asked you to marry me when I realized that I couldn't live my life without you. We had a small wedding in France, just the two of us, by your request."

Now _that_ shocked Harry. It was _he _who requested a secret wedding? He pushed the question of whether or not to ask Snape _why _he chose that to that back of his mind.

"A year later, we went to happened to come across a Wizarding Orphanage in Britain, and that's where we met Julius and Amethyst. You begged to just step inside to see, and the first children you happened to take a glimpse of were the twins. According the orphanage, their Wizard father left their muggle mother when the twins were born, and the mother died in a car wreck. They were two when we adopted them. Seven years old now. Old names used to be Wizenbold, but we changed it soon afterwards. Now, they are Julius James Snape-Potter and Amethyst Lily Snape-Potter."

Snape knew when his lover was about to cry. His eyes would grow tight, and his jaw would clench. The emerald green would change into a duller teal, and he had a habit of biting his lower lips when he tried to fight it. Seeing Harry now trying to desperately hold back the tears, Snape wanted to envelop his husband in his arms. More than anything, he hated seeing Harry sad. And he knew that Harry was sad, because he could not even remember his own children, or that his kids had been given his own dead parents names.

"They're beautiful." Harry whispered, fiddling with his fingers–– another habit that alerted Snape when Harry was feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"They are."

Harry waited a while before he spoke again, "Where we a happy family?"

Snape smiled fiercely, "We _are_ a happy family."

And that was the last of Harry's restraint. Twin tears fell from his eyes, and Snape reacted without even thinking.

Snape moved himself over the table, and reached an arm out towards Harry's face. He cupped Harry's cheeks with his hands, and brushed away the tears with his thumbs.

Harry, on the other hand, had no clue why he leaned into Snape's comforting touch as he did. But he did, and Merlin, where his hands like heaven upon his face. His eyes fluttered closed as his previously tensed muscled relaxed, and he let out a sigh.

Was this what it was like? Having a husband? Or anyone who loved you, for that matter? At the moment, Harry didn't care that this was Snape who was touching him. He didn't care that it was a man who he couldn't remember spending his life with for the past seven years. All he knew was that he felt warm, and he didn't want it to end.

They stayed like that for a while, before a knock at the door pulled both men out of their trance.

Harry blushed, and pulled himself away from Snape's hands. Snape, on the other hand, was already thinking of a million hexes and curses a second, to send to the person who had interrupted their bonding moment.

The door creaked open, and a very uncomfortable looking Weasley popped his head from out of the doorway.

"Sorry to interrupt," Ron apologized, "but 'Mione says that it's about time for Harry to go to the Ministry, and that she's already made breakfast."

Silence ensued between the couple long after the door was shut, and Ron was gone. When nearly five minutes had passed, Harry shot up from his chair, and left the library, without sparing so much as a single glance at Snape.

Snape, after cursing Ron with every insult he knew in the English language, followed suit a minute behind Harry. He let out a long, swallow of air before he began to head down to the Kitchen, and before he could remind himself that he just so happened to be fluent in Latin, French and in German.

* * *

Harry flashed Gregory Thomms a weak smile as he headed up the stairs to his department in the Ministry. Once there, he dropped his outer cloak onto a chair near the door, and grumpily sat himself onto it.

Breakfast with Ron and Hermione proved to be a rather interesting one. For starters, he couldn't bring himself to look away from his kids. Amethyst and Julius were, though he had only technically known them for less than a day, just precious. Whenever they smiled, he found himself smiling. When Julius had flung egg in his sister's hair, he had to literally hold himself back from scolding him. Though he couldn't remember them, in which saddened Harry whole heartedly, he could actually _feel_ his parental being just begging to break free. Maybe his body remembered them, though his mind could not.

He decided the same for Snape.

In truth, he was horrified that he allowed himself to lean into Snape's touch. _Snape's_ touch. _So_ they were married? It wasn't as if Harry could remember it. And it was because of that that he couldn't understand just _why_ he did what he had done. He, reluctantly, understood why on Snape's part. To his old Potions Professor, Harry was still his husband of many years. To him, it was probably a normal thing to comfort and care for his spouse. But Harry should have known better than to allow the man to comfort him in his current state. His old self might have loved Snape, but his current one did not, and therefore, there was no reason why Harry had done what he had. _He _didn't love Snape. It was _wrong. _

Still, that didn't stop Harry from wanting to not go to work, and from desiring to spend the days with his twins. He had known for hours now, but he still couldn't get used to the idea that he was a father. And he wanted to very much do so.

But that was also his motivation for going to work. He needed to find more information on the artifact that had done this to him, and a way to counter it as well. He wanted nothing more than to go back to how things had been, if Hermione and Snape had been right about just how happy Harry was. He wanted that happiness. He was sick of the discomfort.

As the door to the office opened, Harry was pulled from his thoughts. He looked behind him and bowed his head to his rather reserved and quiet partner, Harris Hasburry.

"Good morning, Harris." Harry greeted the older male as he tore off his cloak just as Harry had done.

"Morning, Harry. Is Ivory not in, yet?" He murmured, and folded his cloak neatly, setting it beside Harry's sloppily draped one.

"Is she ever?" Harry teased with a grin. Hasburry returned it.

It was painfully obvious that the man in his early forties was head over heels for their twenty-one year old partner. But because Hasburry was raised by his muggle mother in a muggle society, since his Wizard father had died during Voldemort's time, he was far too stuck on their twenty year age difference, despite the fact that Harry had told the man countless times of Wizarding society and how a twenty year difference was hardly anything to be unsettled about.

Hasburry shrugged it off, of course, and denied his feelings for the young, ebullient woman as well. Harry couldn't help but shake his head at his stubbornness.

Shortly after Hasburry arrived, came Ivory with her usual long, golden hair and bright blue eyes.

"Morning, sunshine's!" Ivory beamed, far too energetic for that time in the morning.

"What did I tell you about your coffee intake limit?" Harry demanded playfully.

"Yes, _father."_ Ivory smirked, and tossed her cloak right on top of Hasburry's.

They were about to enter the lab, to see what new Dark artifacts had been delivered to them this morning, when Harry pulled them back.

"Now, I need to talk to you two."

He briefly explained the happenings of this morning to his two partners, who stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, and sighed in exhaustion once his story had ended.

"Merlin, Harry…" Ivory breathed, staring at the man like he had just confessed to dying of Dragon's pox.

"Are you sure that's what happened?" Hasburry asked.

Harry nodded. "I'm pretty sure that's what happened. I was fine before the incident took place. That's the only reasonable explanation, actually."

Hasburry nodded, and continued, "And are you sure that's the only effects?"

Shrugging, Harry shook his head, "I haven't a clue, really. I just woke up with pieces of my memory missing. My friend, Hermione Granger, had me tell her of my life since after Hogwarts, and I was able to tell her of almost everything except for me being married and having kids."

Hasburry looked thoughtful, and opened his mouth to speak, however, was cut off by a snickering Ivory, "That must have been quite the shocker! If I woke up one day with another woman in my bed, only to find out that we were married and had kids, I would throw a fit."

Harry glared at her, then admitted, "I did, actually. Nearly hexed off Snape's balls when I woke up."

Ivory's snickers escalated to an all out laugh, and tears sprang from her eyes in mirth.

"Merlin, what I wouldn't give to see that. Do you think you could put that memory in a Pensieve for me?"

Harry continued to glare at her before he turned his attention back to Hasburry.

"We'd best start examining that artifact immediately, Harry. You might have only lost a couple of memories then, but who's to say you wont continue to lose more as time goes on?"

Panic began to overwhelm Harry, and he _felt_ the color drain from his face.

"Right." He gulped, and shot up from his seat an into the lab.

As soon as Ivory and Hasburry went inside, all three of the workers of the Department of Dark Artifacts and Items slipped on their white lab robes, pulled out their wands, and brought out the item that they would possibly be spending the remainder of the day, if not weeks, decoding, analyzing and examining.

* * *

Fifteen hours later, Harry's tired face broke out into a smile and he crowed, "I've found it!"

Ivory and Hasburry immediately dropped the books they were reading, and ran over to where Harry sat at the desk, with piles of books, parchments and scrolls scattered around him.

"How?" Hasburry asked, and took a seat next to Harry.

"In the Iliand Montgomery's notes of 1647," Harry explained, and pointed to three very large and ancient looking scrolls that were held open on the table by a charm, "her research on discreet punishment through memory. I used the runes and symbols of the artifact–– the ones that were written in Latin–– and used a bridging scheme to connect the lines between the Greek mind study and mythology, linked it to the devices created by the same theory in Persia, Egypt, and Spain, and followed it to Iliand Montgomery, born in Britain in 1573; a witch who was well known for her memory charms."

Hasburry waited impatiently for Harry to continue, and he and Ivory followed the mans theories, conclusions and ideas intently.

"The artifact is called the _Mnemosyne, _like the Goddess of Memory. It was a device used to remove the most prominent, happy memories of the person it was used on. In my case, it was my memories of my husband and children. In all honesty, I don't know how such a thing came to us. There aren't many made of them throughout history. According the scrolls, Montgomery was the only witch able to perfect a _Mnemosyne _that worked in all accords, and she only created five before she died of Dragons Pox. It's amazingly difficult to make, because it fishes out the most favorable memories, rather than the memories in general of a specific time, if not the entire."

Ivory looked thoughtful, then asked, "Then how was it that it got to you, Harry? Neither of us touched the thing directly."

Harry looked at her and raised a brow, "Remember when you dropped it?"

Ivory flushed, but nodded.

"Though the scrolls aren't entirely clear on how the _Mnemosyne _works, I'll bet anything that it was the light that triggered my memory loss. It didn't hit me directly because I still had certain shields up, but I can't deny that it didn't hit me _at all_."

"But since you did actually have _some_ protection, do you think that it had a different impact on you?"

Harry shrugged. "I can't say. The _Mnemosyne _is supposed to have a permanent effect. Since I had some protection from it, I can only assume that my case wont be the same, at least not in it's time period. I can only hope, of course. We should have the people at the Department of Dark Artifacts and Items Examination and Registration look closer into it. They should be able to find out more about it."

All three nodded in agreement.

* * *

**A/N: And so is the end of the first part of "Forget Me Not". The next, and final, part, should be finshed and revised in a few days. **

**Review, please!**

**And thanks for reading!**

**_HAPPY CHRISTMAS, btw!_  
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	2. He Forgets Me Not

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**FORGET ME NOT  
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**by Reiko Katsura**

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**::PART 2:: **

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Several hours later, in which many of them were spent at the Department of Dark Artifacts and Items Examination and Registration, Harry Potter apparated just inside his house, after a few hours sleep at a nearby muggle hotel near the Ministry. He landed right in the foyer, but didn't move from there for some time.

Was Snape there? Was his children? Did he really have a right to come barging in? He didn't know an answer to those questions. He didn't stay there long, however, before a presence started towards him.

Harry bit his lip as the form of Severus Snape came flowing into the foyer. Snape stopped short after looking at Harry, not seeming at all surprised of the man's appearance, and gave him a small, almost hesitant smile.

"Welcome home, Harry." Snape murmured.

Harry fidgeted under the man's obsidian gaze, and nodded, unsurely. Moments passed by in silence. Neither male knew what to say, or what to do next, for that matter.

The silence was broken, however, when Snape cleared his throat awkwardly.

"This is your home," he said, softly, never taking his soft gaze from Harry's, "It might feel awkward to you, but it is still yours. There are a number of guest rooms, in which either I or you can inhabit."

Harry merely nodded again, and then cleared his throat in an attempt to bring down the lump that had manifested there.

"And the kids?" He still couldn't believe that he had children!

"They sleep in the room across from…ours…"

Harry blushed, and ducked his head trying to hide it. He was married to Snape for Merlinssake! They slept in the same bed! They probably did many _things_ in the same bed!

His cheeks were burning hotter and hotter by the second. Being in the same house as the man, the house that they had shared for many years, made him all the more aware of his circumstances.

The circumstances that he was married to a man twenty years older than he. Married to his old teacher. Married to the man who he had spent seven whole years hating.

And he had children with said man.

Harry shivered.

"Are they here?"

Snape looked at him momentarily, and then nodded.

"Yes. They're playing in the play room at the moment."

"Can I… see them?" He asked, tentatively. He wanted so see them badly. All morning, and all afternoon, and all evening–– Harry kept thinking back on his two twins, and imagining their faces, their voices, their expressions. The way they ran up to him and hugged him. The way they called him "Daddy." Just everything.

Snape gave him another small smile, the one that made his chest tighten, and whispered, "Of course. Do you remember where it is?"

Harry frowned as he thought about it, and then shook his head. He shouldn't have been surprised that he didn't remember it. The _Mnemosyne_ removed all his memories of his children. Obviously, it would have removed everything even remotely related to them.

"Follow me," Snape said, and then turned around to walk further into the house. They didn't even make it past the foyer before Snape stopped in his tracks, and turned around again.

"Harry," he started, "did you find out anything regarding the loss of your memory?"

A little astonished that he had forgotten, Harry nodded.

"Will you tell me about it later tonight?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

And then he turned around again, and went further into the house.

* * *

When Harry and Snape stopped short in front of a bright green door, Harry was a little shocked. He knew that he wouldn't remember the room at all, but to think that he couldn't recall something so obvious and extravagant-- was a bit odd. The door was such a vivid shade of green, that if Harry's eyes had not already been the same color, he would have been worried that they would have turned it.

Looking at Snape, it was a wonder that the man was able to look at it directly. He wouldn't have been surprised if Snape's eyed had turned green as well.

Yes, it was that bright.

Snape took the initiative of opening the door. It didn't make a sound, but once it opened, the sounds of laughing, giggles and thudding echoed out into the hall. The door opened wider, and revealed a room covered in toys and colors and all types of children's things. The floor was matted with red and blue and yellow, and the walls painted with scenes of the sky, and of parks, and of lakes and of deserts. Bookshelves lined the walls, swings hung from a cloudy ceiling, and slides took up each corner of the room.

There were toys of all kinds–– muggle and magic–– that were scattered across the floor and flowing out of trunks, and stuffed animals of various sizes overpopulated the room, making it seem like a sort of zoo.

Harry had never seen anything like it in his life.

"Ahem," Snape coughed loudly.

Immediately, the two children stopped what they were doing (Julius had been playing in a little plastic house, and Amethyst was having a tea party with her dolls), and shot up and to a sprint.

Cries of "Daddy," and "Papa" sounded, and in the blink of an eye, Snape and Harry each had a small bundle of child at their waist.

Harry couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face, and he dropped to one knee and ruffled the little girls' hair.

"How are you, sweetie?" he asked, and his heart melted when Amethyst smiled sweetly at him.

"Good, Daddy," she said, "Mr. Willis and Avery and Mrs. And Mr. Happnot and Lissy and Beckie were all having a tea party!"

Harry chuckled. He still couldn't believe that these two children where indeed his!

"Daddy."

Harry turned his head, and came face to face with his son, Julius. Unlike his sister, Julius's hair was an outright mess. He wore green Wizarding robes, which were slightly wrinkled from his boyish playing. He was taller than Amethyst, by at least three inches, and his eyes were a softer shade of brown, mixed with dashes of green.

"Where were you last night, Daddy?" Julius asked, though his tone was almost demanding. Harry quirked a brow.

"At work, Julius."

Julius rolled his eyes. "Obviously. But why didn't you floo us a message? I was waiting all night for you so we could start baking, and you didn't come!"

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together, completely lost. Baking? Baking what?

He looked up at Snape, who gave him a piercing glance that meant that he would tell Harry later, and Harry sighed and turned back to his seven year old son who was looking at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry, Julius. It must have slipped my mind."

The boy huffed.

Resisting the urge to chuckle and pull him into a hug because he was just too adorable, Harry instead ruffled his brown hair, mussing it up all the more, and said, "We'll bake tomorrow morning, alright, Julius?"

Julius eyed him skeptically, and said, "You'll allow me to bake early in the morning?"

Harry nodded. He would have to ask Snape about that later on, too.

"I promise."

Having been appeased, Julius grinned at Harry beautifully, quickly hugged him, and ran back to the play house to resume whatever it was he was doing. Harry kissed Amethyst on the cheek, and she, too, went back to her play station.

Harry watched them for a moment more before he stood from the floor and scooted next to Snape, who was staring at him intently.

"Baking?" Harry asked the older man, curiously.

Snape nodded, "Yes. Julius has some interest, if not obsession, with baking pastries. It started when he was around four years old, and Hermione gave him some muggle contraption called "_Easy Bake Oven_" for Christmas."

Harry stared at Snape in disbelief that his friend would give their something so _girly_, and Snape continued, "It was meant for Amethyst, but Weasley–– as useless as he is–– mixed up the presents. Since he opened it, Julius refused give it up. He played with the thing nearly every day for months. When it broke, he was devastated."

Harry slightly smirked when he heard Snape mutter something that sounded an awful lot like "Stupid muggle toys", under his breath.

"It was you who decided to teach him how to bake."

Well, that wasn't much of a surprise to Harry. He had not baked often at the Dursley's, but he had on occasion, and had many times watched his Aunt Petunia do it.

"You bought a small muggle oven, and when Julius turned five, started teaching him the process of it."

The corner of Snape's lip twitched when absolute incredulity flashed over his lovers face. Yes, he had reacted the same way when Harry had made his proposal two years ago. Though Snape had spent the majority of his life in the Wizarding world, he had been raised in a muggle-dominating household. He had seen an oven before, and watched it work, too–– and that was why he knew full well how dangerous one could be for a small child. He had really thought that Harry had gone insane, at that time. Hell, to this day he still did.

"Contrary to what I and you now believe, it worked out splendidly. You and Julius bake things together every two or three days, but only in your company. You specifically spelled the oven so that it will not turn on unless you deactivate the protection ward."

Harry sighed in relief. At least he had taken _some_ precaution.

He turned his attention back to the kids, who were now both playing together in the play house. They were beautiful, as they laughed and giggled together. After a few moments of smiling fondly at the two, Harry felt someone's eyes on. He turned his head sideways and up, and locked eyes with Snape, who turned his head soon afterwards and averted his gaze.

_This must be torture for him, _Harry thought, as he looked again towards the twins, _Having me here, and yet not having me. It must hurt. _

"Sn––" He started, but was interrupted by the older man.

"It's about time I get back to work." Snape told him suddenly.

Harry scrunched his brows in confusion. He didn't know _what_ Snape did for a living. Snape, seeing the confusion on his spouses face, said, "I write Potion reports and test theories made by current Potion Masters and scholars. I also brew a collection of different healing potions, and send them to Hogwarts via Floo Network."

Harry should have guessed that.

"So you work from home?" He questioned, feeling odd at calling their house "home".

Snape tucked a strand of loose hair behind his ear. "Yes. The twins are still young, and need to be taken care of. You wanted to work at the ministry, though, and since I don't care where I work, so long as it's dealing with potions, we decided on these current arrangements."

When a flash of guilt washed over Harry, Snape shook his head knowingly, "Don't be. I'm happy doing what I am now. If I wasn't, then I wouldn't have agreed to such."

It was Harry's turn to shake his head. "But you don't have a choice." He insisted.

Once again, Snape shook his head, " Do you think I would have continued working at Hogwarts, where I would have been gone for the majority of the year? I would have missed my children growing up. I would have only seen my family during breaks. I did it as much for you and them, as I did it for myself."

And Harry then _knew_ that Snape was telling the truth. The emotion that was burning in his eyes, stern setting of his jaw––just everything.

Since words failed to break from his throat, Harry merely nodded.

"Good. Now, would you mind watching them for a while?"

"No," Harry refrained from smiling. He didn't mind at all.

"I'll be in my lab, which is three doors down from our room, if you need me." Snape hesitated, but smiled softly at Harry, before he turned around and left the green eyed man alone in the playroom to watch their children.

Harry tossed his cloak off and dropped it to the floor. He slipped off his shoes, tucked his wand in his back pants pocket, and made a run for the play house where his two twins were currently playing.

_No, _Harry thought with a brilliant smile, _I don't mind _at all.

* * *

When Snape came back to the playroom after he finished his work, nearly four hours later, he was surprised to see Harry and the twins sleeping, snuggled up together in a mass of blankets and stuffed animals.

Snape smiled softly at the sight, which wasn't so uncommon, actually, when Harry did remember his kids. More often than not, he would scold Harry for behaving like a child, and drag him, as well as the kids, into the room where they were _supposed_ to sleep. He acted like it annoyed him, but in truth he found it quite endearing.

Now, the sight caused him just as much joy and warmth as it did pain.

Whenever Snape remembered that Harry didn't remember his life together with him, his chest would constrict to tightly to the point of breaking. When those green eyes, the ones he had come to love so much, looked at him without cognizance and without love, Snape understood the meaning of heart break. He had spent the entire night in bed yesterday, thinking of Harry and what it could mean if Harry couldn't recover his memories.

The young man would surely ask for a divorce. Why wouldn't he? Their current relationship had initiated by unlikely circumstances. It was a stroke of luck. It was a once in a life time thing. Neither of them knew what had happened, or dreamed what would become of it.

There was no such luck, now. Snape didn't have the confidence to believe that Harry would come back to him of his own volition, when he was aware of the outcome.

He didn't have the confidence at all.

Sighing tiredly, Snape strolled over to his sleeping family and knelt down on the floor next to them. He stared into the beautiful faces of his twins, and his heart swelled up with pride and happiness and love. And then he looked at Harry's slumbering face, and he was filled with want, and need, and love and fear. Fear that he would never again look at him with emotion-filled eyes. Fear that he would never again willingly bring himself to Snape's bed. Fear that he would never again hear the words "I love you", from his husbands' mouth.

Snape stoked a line across Harry's warm cheek, and sighed again when Harry began to stir. Fighting back the urge to kiss him awake, as he so often did, Snape placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and began to shake him awake, all the while praying that Harry's memories would return upon awakening.

* * *

Harry rubbed his eyes and yawned as Snape placed a cup of _Butterbeer_ on the table in front of him. Smiling at him gratefully, he grabbed the cup and gulped down a large amount of the warm, buttery liquid. Immediately, the contents began to warm him, and within moments, Harry was fully awake.

"I apologize," Snape started, as he took his seat across from Harry, "for taking so long to return. Work distracted me, and before I knew it, hours passed. I hope you aren't displeased."

Harry shook his head, and answered after another swig, "Not at all. I had a great time, actually. I can't remember having so much fun in the longest…"

Snape bit the inside of his cheek, and tried to keep a cool façade. Of course Harry didn't remember. He _couldn't_ remember.

"Are you all right?" The man across from Snape asked tentatively, looking at Snape with a worried expression.

"I'm fine." Snape said shortly, not trusting himself to leave all emotion from his voice. If there was one thing that came with being married to Gryffindor, it was the loss of some of Snape's Slytherin characteristics. Admittedly, he didn't care. Much.

"Right." He obviously didn't believe him, but he let it go.

"Now, what did you manage to discover while at the Ministry?"

A sudden flash of determination flickered in Harry's eyes, and as soon as his mouth opened, he began to tell Snape about the information he and his team uncovered, as well as the examinations that took place in their brother department. Snape knew full well, when Harry had just started telling his tale, that his mask had fallen. As Harry continued to speak, Snape began to clench and unclench his fist in frustration, as his lips were set in a tight line.

When Harry finally finished speaking, Snape finally let loose the breath he had been holding, and rubbed the bridge of his nose distraughtly.

"Does that mean that you will never be able to regain full access to your memories?" He forced himself to ask, the words feeling like bile on his tongue.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes were troubled. "I don't know. We can't know yet, until further research is done. The effects of the _Mnemosyne_ are supposed to be permanent, but the department is thinking, or hoping, rather, that it's effects have been slightly nullified or have been depressed to a shorter period of length . We don't know how long the time-frame will be, or even if the time has lessened, so it's only a guess. A theory."

Snape let out a shaky breath. He moved his hands to his knees beneath the table, so that he could hide their trembling. He might have lost some of his Slytherin traits, but his dislike of showing weak and vulnerable emotions was still strongly etched into his conscience. Even if it was only Harry he was speaking to. And besides, this Harry wasn't really _his_ Harry. His Harry loved him. This one did not.

In a sense, they were now nothing more than past teacher and student.

He breathed again.

"What then, Harry?"

Harry's head shot up, and he looked at Snape in confusion.

"What?"

"What will you do if your memories do not come back." Snape dreaded having to ask this, and by the forlorn look on his spouse's face, Harry did, too.

"I don't know," he admitted, and chuckled tightly. "I've been trying not to think about it, actually. All it does is get me severely depressed. And the times when I do start thinking about it, I never come up with a solution."

He exhaled deeply, and dropped his eyes to the table.

"What do I do if I don't remember anything? What can I do? I don't know. I don't know anything!" Snape flinched as Harry's fists came into contact with the table, causing his newly refilled mug of _butterbeer_ to come splashing and spilling on the table.

"I don't know…" he finished weakly, and slumped back into the chair with his arms crossed in front of him.

The need to comfort and console his agitated and sullen husband was nearly enough to make Snape reach over the table and embrace him, but he somehow managed to repress it. Instead, he settled for cleaning up Harry's mess, and pouring him another glass of _butter beer_. Harry thanked him, and this time, consumed the golden liquid in one satisfying lift.

"What do you want?"

Feeling more weary, Harry merely glanced up at Snape, who was looking at him with soft, troubled obsidian eyes. He sighed, and scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't know, either. I want to be a dad. I want to be in the twins lives, even if I don't remember the past five years with them. If my old memories of them are gone, I want to create new memories. Having a family is something I always dreamed of, and I'd be damned if one little curse will take that away from me."

Harry's green eyes were burning dark. Snape smiled a little at the determined look in his eyes. No, nothing was going to tear Harry away from his kids. Not even a "little curse" that wiped out most of his best memories.

Snape snorted in bitter amusement.

Seeing his inquiring gaze, Snape shook his head. This wasn't the time for jokes, he knew. Instead, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, and asked the one question that had been driving him crazy since yesterday.

"And us?"

Harry furrowed his brow, and asked, "What?"

"What about us, Harry? I understand your desire to form new memories with Julius and Amethyst. You are their father, after all. But I'm also concerned about our relationship. About our marriage. What is it that you want?" Snape mentally commended himself on his capability of getting the words out without his voice cracking or his anxiety evident.

Harry visibly gulped. He brought his eyes up to look at Snape, and then dropped them immediately after.

"I don't know."

Snape's heart felt like it was going to burst out his chest from pounding so viciously. _He doesn't know. That's as good as saying that he doesn't want to be together. Why I bothered getting my hopes up was idiotic on my part. I'm a Slytherin, for Merlinssake!_

Harry saw the resignation on Snape's face. He saw the way his eyes darkened, and his lips tightened. It was hardly visible, but Harry saw it. He made a move before Snape had a chance to make assumptions.

"Snape!" Harry snapped, and pulled the older man, who was his husband, out of his thoughts.

When Snape's eyes rolled onto his, Harry took a deep breath and continued. "I don't know what to do about us. We're married, but I don't remember it any of it. Any of our memories as spouses is gone. Perhaps I was happy before, but it's different now. I don't know if I can get past the whole "you being Snape", thing."

Harry breathed deeply, "I don't know if I can, but I'll try. I'll try to look past the old memories of you, which was you being a git in Hogwarts, and try to look at you as a different person. If I don't regain my memories, I don't know if I could fall in love with you again. I don't see it happening, honestly, but I wont rule it out. I had to have fallen in love with you for some reason. I want to see what it is that made me marry you, but I don't want to be pushed or rushed, either. At the moment, I don't even want to be in a relationship. I can't see us sharing a bed, or kissing, or having sex––", Harry blushed rightfully, "–– but I'll leave an open mind. For that reason, I say we should start over."

Harry would have laughed at Snape's shocked expression, if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"Start over," Snape repeated softly, rolling the words around his tongue. He moved his pale hands back to the table, and bit his lip thoughtfully, "as friends?"

Harry smiled and nodded.

"As friends."

Snape seemed to think it over for a while, before he nodded as well. "Alright, Harry. We'll start over as friends. It will be… difficult for me," he winced, hating having to admit it aloud, "but I will try."

"Thanks, Snape."

"Severus."

"Hm?"

"It's Severus. My name is Severus."

"Severus", Harry repeated, then blushed slightly. It was weird calling his old Professor that. Then again, it was only a little weirder than his old Professor calling him '_Harry_.'"

"Will you be staying here for your nights?"

Harry nodded. "If you don't mind. Though, I would be more comfortable in a…separate room."

Snape held back a sigh. Another thing he would miss dearly, would be having Harry in his bed, and waking up in his arms. "Understood."

"Thanks."

Both adults then stood from the table, and pushed their chairs in. Snape spelled the mugs of _butterbeer_ empty, and then clean, and with a flick of his wand, the glass cups disappeared to Merlin only knew where. They walked in silence out of the kitchen, and down the long hall. Snape was the one to push the door open to the twins bedroom, and Harry followed him as he went inside.

Julius and Amethyst were sleeping in twin beds, one green and one purple. Their room was big, and covered in blue. Stars and planets orbited and sparkled on the walls, and the floor was an image of midnight clouds. A large white orb, which had grates and pores, floated near the ceiling, and from it, came a lullaby.

"Gorgeous," Harry breathed. The room was absolutely gorgeous.

"It was your idea," Snape said suddenly, as he pulled Julius's covers over his shoulders, and then made his way to Amethyst, "The night sky for bed time. Early morning resembles a meadow, with flowers and chirping birds and the rising sun. The day time is less extravagant–– a mere sun to brighten the room, and colored a deep blue."

Harry well was aware that he was gaping.

"This must contain a ridiculous amount of magic. And even the playroom had so many images and illusions…"

"It does consume quite a bit of magic," Snape admitted, "but you and I have more than enough magic to handle this. Perhaps not enough to cast multiple _Unforgivables,_ but enough for you to perform magic as an auror, and me as a Potions Master."

Harry's open mouth closed shut, and his eye brows shot up to his hair line, "Was that a _joke, _Severus?" He asked with a grin.

Snape smirked, but did not respond. If only Harry knew how frequent Snape had become at making jokes, he would probably die of shock.

"It's getting late," he changed the subject, and walked over to where Harry stood by the door, "we should start moving your belongings to a new room for you, so we can get some sleep."

At the mention of sleep, Harry yawned. It _had_ been a long day, and his play time with the twins really wore him out. He nodded, suddenly feeling how tired he was, and followed Snape out into the hall, but not before glancing back at his two children one last time, and whispering, "Good Night."

* * *

The process of removing all of Harry's stuff to a room directly across from the one they both shared, was tiresome. The majority of his clothes were mixed in with Snape's, as well as the more embarrassing stuff like socks and underwear. Harry had also had the misfortune of opening a drawer that Snape told him he put his undershirts in, and finding a box full of things he would have never thought he would own. The things he could identify were condoms, lube, cock rings, vibrators, rope, handcuffs, and dildo's. And there were other things, things that Harry didn't even want to know what they were or for what purpose, like wires, balls, rings, marbles on string, pills, something that looked an awful lot like a paddle, and a video camera.

Harry shuddered at the thought of the things they must have recorded and taped on that thing.

"I see you found our treasure box."

Harry squeaked and jumped at the close proximity of the voice, and then backed away quickly with a maddening blush.

"T-t-t-t-treasure b-box?" He squeaked, not sounding manly at all.

Snape smirked amusedly, and said, "That's right. You've become… quite addicted to buying muggle toys over the years."

"_M-me_?!"

"Hmm." Snape hummed in affirmation, then stepped around Harry to close the drawer.

"D-do we…er…actually…" Harry tried, rubicund, but he couldn't manage to get the words out.

Snape saved him from further embarrassing words, and offered, "Use all of these?"

When Harry cast his eyes to the floor, and nodded weakly, Snape let out a soft chuckle. "We have, actually. Some more than others. Our sex life is an active one, compared to some others."

Harry nodded dumbly, because that was all he could do.

"Come," Snape told him, and then turned around, "we've gathered most of your things already. We can get the rest at a later time."

Harry nodded again.

Snape saw Harry's uncomfortable fidgeting, and sighed, "Harry, look at me."

When Harry didn't move, Snape repeated himself in a much sharper, strict voice, "Harry. I said _look_ at me."

Slowly, Harry brought his eyes up at the older man.

"You don't have to be embarrassed or uncomfortable. You don't have to be scared, either."

Harry frowned, and Snape continued, "We were…_are_ married, so sexual experimentation is normal. You shouldn't feel ashamed of the things you have done, or have taken pleasure in, when it had been consensual and full of nothing less than love. While you are in lack of your memories of me, I will not touch you. I promise you, Harry, I won't lay a hand on you. You're safe here. Don't feel uncomfortable in your own home."

Harry steadily nodded.

"I shouldn't have let you see that drawer, but it slipped my mind, and so, I apologize. You are not yet ready to come to terms with just how deep our relationship as husbands are. That drawer will be locked. If you wish it, the contents will be removed."

Harry thought about it. He really did. The things that that drawer indicated… the things that he now knew they'd done… was mortifying. He felt embarrassed, having let someone else see him and play with him like that. Perhaps it had been a joy before, but it wasn't now. Just thinking of the things in there almost made him tremble.

Still, he knew that he couldn't. That wouldn't be right. They were Snape's things as much as his, and it wouldn't be fair for him to throw out something that they shared, even if he couldn't remember it. And there was also the possibility of him getting his memories back. He was sure that _that_ Harry wouldn't be too happy that he had thrown his toys out.

Sighing, Harry shook his head.

"I'm fine. I was just… shocked." He looked up at Snape, and their eyes locked. Snape's eyes were hard and concentrated, scrutinizing Harry's face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"If your certain," Snape said slowly, disbelieving.

Instead of answering, Harry simply nodded. He wasn't certain, not at all, but he wasn't about to admit that. Not right after he said he was.

Snape sighed again. "Perhaps you do not need to know this, however, if it will put you at ease, I will tell you," Snape paused, and wrinkled his nose in obvious distaste, as if what he were about to tell Harry brought him foul memories, "If this knowledge helps, I have also come across some very similar…_equipment_ at the Weasley residence…"

Realization hit as Snape's words sunk in, and Harry clamped his hands to his ears, in a futile attempt to block out any more talk of his two best friends playing with similar toys. _Oh, Merlin,_ Harry groaned. _I did not just hear that, I did not just hear that, I did not just… Oh, god, ew…._

"Ah. It appears that this information had the opposite effect. I had hoped that it would have assured you that such things are normal for married couples. It seems that you have been scarred by the thought, just as much as I have."

"Thanks for that," Harry glared at the man, and shook his head to clear his mind from inappropriate thoughts. "I _really _didn't need to know that."

"My sentiments, exactly." Snape deadpanned. Somewhere inside, Harry had a sneaky suspicion that Snape shared that uncalled for and highly disturbing information, just to have someone else who would suffer with that knowledge.

Greasy git.

A yawn broke through Harry's lips, interrupting his prior reign of thought, and Harry blinked tiredly.

"We should get to bed," Snape muttered, though he didn't look very tired himself. Harry thought it must have been a Slytherin thing. They were good at hiding that kind of thing.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, and turned around. He walked ten feet down to his room, which was across from Snape's, and peered over his shoulder as he opened the door to the normal, but classy room where his stuff lay scattered all of the place.

"Good night, Severus." Harry bit his lip, not knowing what to do. It was…awkward, to say the least. He was pretty sure that he and Snape did not bid goodnight in such a manner, but he was hardly going to give him a good night kiss.

Deciding that there was nothing else to say or do, and wanting to escape the man's piercing dark gaze, Harry stepped into what would become his new bedroom, and closed the door softly behind him.

Snape watched as Harry disappeared into his room, and inwardly sighed as the door closed on him. He held back a yawn, and headed back to his room, which was messy from all the rummaging he and Harry had done. Clothes and other items were scattered all over the floor, and though this would have usually peeved Snape, he was far too tired at the moment to care.

Promising to handle it first thing tomorrow morning, Snape spelled his clothes off, and then his long, black pajama robes on. He used a cleaning charm on his mouth and face, and then slithered into the bed in exhaustion.

He instantly felt the difference.

The bed was much colder. It was bigger, too. It wasn't as comfortable as it once had been, and it wasn't that soft. But perhaps that was because there was no Harry to warm his side, or to take up space. There was no Harry to curl himself into, or to wrap himself around. He was being silly. Silly and pathetic, he knew, but he couldn't help it. It was different when Harry was away at work. There was nothing else to be done. But when he knew that Harry was nearly a few feet from him, and sleeping in another bed, Snape felt the loneliness full blast.

With another sigh, he closed his eyes and welcomed the darkness, all the while solemnly wondering if he and Harry would ever share a bed again.

And then he drifted off into an unsatisfying sleep.

* * *

When Harry awoke, the sun was already peaking softly through his curtains. He raised a hand over his eyes, to shield the offensive light, and blindly searched for his glasses and wand on the bedside counter. With a morning yawn, Harry shifted his glasses onto his nose, and muttered a _Tempus_ charm to tell him the time–– 8:00a.m.

For a few moments, Harry sat in his bed, in a daze between sleep and awake. When he began to waken, he thought back to the happenings of last night, and sighed warily. He had a feeling that today was going to be just as strange, if not more so.

With another tired yawn, Harry slid off his bed and grabbed a bundle of clothes in his arms. He left the dreariness of his bed room, and headed in the direction of the bathroom. Harry was about to walk right in before he remembered that he was living with Snape, and with a blush etched onto his cheeks, he knocked tentatively on the oak door. When no one answered, Harry walked into the bathroom, and immediately began to remove his clothes. He stepped into the shower, and sighed pleasantly as the hot water came rushing upon his back roughly, massaging his tense shoulder muscles as they rained onto him.

He stayed like that a good five minutes before he grabbed the soap, which smelled an awful lot like vanilla, and began to scrub himself with it and his white towel. When he was sure that he had tended to every inch of his lightly tanned skin, and his hair had been thoroughly washed with honey-scented shampoo, Harry turned off the water and stepped outside the shower stall. He cast a warming charm to dry off the remaining wetness on his body, and then spelled a pair of dark blue muggle jeans and a green shirt on. His dirty clothes were cast away into a hamper, and his glasses were once again placed atop his nose. Harry brushed his teeth quickly, pocketed his wand in his back pocket of his loose fitting jeans, and left the bathroom to head downstairs.

Harry was a bit surprised as he walked down the stairs, and into the hall headed towards the kitchen. Considering that it was early morning, and that there were two young children in the house, it was remarkably quiet. Harry had always thought a house with kids would be, well, _loud. _He could imagine them jumping and shrieking, and flying on little broomsticks and laughing.

But Harry couldn't even hear a muffled giggle.

With a small frown, Harry walked into the kitchen where he and Snape had talked last night. Sitting on the table were his twins, Amethyst and Julius, and Severus–– and all where eating breakfast in silence.

When Harry's presence was noticed, Snape looked up and offered him a polite smile.

"Good morning, Harry."

The twins turned their head towards him, and Harry received to brilliant smiles.

"Morning, Daddy!" They chorused.

Harry chuckled, and wondered if saying things at the same time was a twin thing. He thought back to Fred and George, who were always in synch with each other, and wondered if his twins would be the same.

Thinking of Fred, Harry felt a slight twinge in his heart. George had been devastated after his brother's death at the final battle, and hadn't taken his loss well. Aside from Mrs. Weasley, there was no one who could have probably mourned so much for a person. The single twin has spent months in St. Mungo's, and even after that, had to be taken care of and watched over by his family. It wasn't until years had passed, that George had managed to gain even the smallest semblance of a normal life. Ginny helped him out with the shop, and the last time he checked–– which was a few months ago–– George had even started dating a young witch.

The raven made a mental note to visit George sometime this week.

Harry took his seat beside Snape, and immediately a meal of bacon, eggs, sausages and toast appeared before him.

"Where's Dobby?" Harry asked Snape, as he started tearing up his fried eggs.

"I do believe he's refurnishing the basement." Snape said dryly.

After the final battle, Dobby had spent a lot of time at Hogwarts with the other elves, helping to rebuild and fix the school. When his work had been done, he had personally asked to work as Harry's house elf. Harry tried to turn him down, of course, but in the end, Harry couldn't resist the elves' big, watering eyes and desperate pleas. Harry refused to order him around, though, unless it was something he needed. Dobby was the one who took it upon himself to clean and cook breakfast and lunch for him. When Harry had moved into Snape's house, Dobby had followed.

Apparently, Snape never seemed to mind. Lazy git.

"Did you sleep well?" Snape asked him, and then took a swig of what Harry believed to be coffee.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. Truthfully, he had, all things considering. He had woken a few times in his sleep, but had fallen back again soon after. With all the events that had taken place in the past two days, Harry was surprised that he even managed to have a decent sleep. In Hogwarts, he wouldn't have even considered sleeping with so much stuff on his mind. But perhaps that was the cause of getting older.

"And you?" Harry asked, for politeness sake.

"Reasonably well," Snape admitted.

Harry was about to go back to his eggs, when the sound of low giggling caught his attention. He looked over at the twins, who were whispering something amongst themselves, and every so often, throwing glances at Snape and Harry.

"What, dare I ask, is so amusing?" Snape drawled, through a smirk. Harry momentarily wondered how the man happened to express such affection, even while his face was set in not-so-charming expressions.

The brunettes giggled again, and turned back to their parents.

"We were talkin' 'bout you!" Julius said, and nodded vigorously, his mop of brown hair rushing up and down.

"Uh-huh," Amethyst agreed, and then turned to her brother. Once their eyes locked, both fell into another low fit of giggles.

"Where you, now?" Harry asked, amused.

Julius giggled this time.

"About what, pray tell," Snape continued, still smirking.

Julius and Amethyst shared another look, and the latter stated, "How you and Daddy aren't kissy-kissy like usual this morning!"

As they started giggling again, Harry nearly dropped his fork. He choked on the eggs that he had so stupidly put in his mouth, and coughed it out while Snape patted him roughly on the back.

When Harry was finally able to control himself enough to speak, he rasped and gulped down nearly half his goblet of pumpkin juice. His eyes were watering, and his throat felt sore. _Talk about wrong things to say at the table…_

"Are you alright?" Snape asked, concern laced in his voice.

Another swig, and Harry nodded reassuringly. "Wrong pipe," he told him, and then drank again. His face was burning red, and he knew that it didn't have anything to do with him nearly choking to death.

He found it awful surprising, amongst other things, that he and Snape had been the type to be affectionate every so often. Naturally, Snape just didn't look the type to do such a thing. But then again, Harry didn't know much about the new Snape, now, did he?

"Daddy?"

Harry once again swiveled his head in the direction of the kids, and rose a brow at Julius, who was staring at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"Yes, Julius?"

"Are you goin' to work early today?" The small boy asked with a small, deceiving smile.

Harry looked at him wearily, and shook his head. He was supposed to work early today, but had taken the day off. After everything that happened yesterday, he knew he needed a good rest–– and work at the ministry wasn't going to give him that. He was also assured that Hasburry and Ivory would continue to research the _Mnemosyne, _and would call him as soon as something important was uncovered. He could relax at that.

"Can we bake?" Julius asked, and batted his eyes prettily.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Bake, daddy," Julius rolled his eyes, in a very mature way that should not suit his seven year old body at all, but remarkably did, "cookies. You promised, daddy!"

As soon as his eyes began to moisten, Harry blurted out "Alright", and at once, Julius's eyes dried and he smiled.

Harry blinked.

"Thank you, Daddy." Julius hummed, and then pushed his plate to the side. Amethyst followed suit, and as soon as their plates vanished from the table, the twins told them that they were going to their room for a bit, and would be down in a few minutes, but not after demanding that Harry hurry up and eat, and running away before Snape could scold them.

Harry blinked again.

Beside him, Snape began to chuckle softly.

When Harry turned to him, the man lifted a dark brow and asked jokingly, "Can't even handle a small child, Potter? It's a wonder how you managed to defeat the dark lord, yet you can't even stand up to a seven year old runt who doesn't even have a real wand."

Harry glared at the man, and muttered indignantly, "Well, if Voldemort had looked at me with _those_ eyes, too, I would have probably left Dumbledore in a second."

Snape chuckled again, and both he and Harry pushed away their plates–– done with breakfast.

Harry walked over to where the small oven was, and kneeled down to it to get a better view. At once, he could feel his magic coming from it, in a soft hum. He could tell that he placed a password spell on it, but couldn't remember it for the life of him.

Damn memory loss.

"Severus," Harry called, and then peered over his shoulder, "Would you happen to know the password I placed on this thing?"

The smirk once again made it's appearance on the man's pale face. "I do believe it's '_Sexy Snivelus', _if I remember correctly," He drawled, and bit back a laugh as Harry's face reddened furiously.

Feeling in a good mood, Snape turned his back on his blushing spouse, and began to leave the kitchen. Once he reached the opening, Snape turned around slowly and told Harry, "I have some reports to finish. Would you mind watching Julius and Amethyst for an hour or two?"

Harry, still with colored cheeks, nodded.

"If you need anything, you know where my lab is," he added, before he slipped out of the kitchen.

Harry stared at the man's back as he left, and sighed as he shot a dark look at the small oven. Of all the things in the world to say, he had to choose _that_ of all things?!

_How humiliating…. _

* * *

Julius and Amethyst had come down mere moments after Snape had left him, both carrying silver and green aprons in their hands. Harry wanted to roll his eyes. He would need to have a serious talk with Snape about buying their children such Slytherin inclined clothing. It was as if he was trying to say something. The git.

And he was most peeved when '_Sexy Snivelus'_ actually _was_ the password. He only hoped that he never de-spelled the oven in front of his kids.

When Harry couldn't remember where the cooking items where placed, he played dumb, and allowed a huffing and amused Julius and Amethyst to run around and gather the ingredients and utensils. Of course, he hadn't realized until all their materials had been collected that he could have simply summoned them, or used the _Point Me_ spell to locate them. Yes, Harry was very much a Gryffindor.

He was also surprised at Julius's performance as they baked the cookies, which the twins decided on. Sure, Amethyst took it upon herself to roll the dough, looking pleased all the while she did so. But Julius… Harry shook his head. Julius handled everything with such care, passion, and dedication, that it stunned Harry into silence. Harry watched as Julius gathered the ingredients and measured them accordingly, and how he delicately battered and mixed them together, and cut them into perfect circles. The boy looked beyond his seven years as his small body carried the tray into the oven, and then timed it for the right amount of degrees. His face was of perfect concentration as he slid into a small chair before the heated oven, and silently watched and waited until the timer went off.

It was then that Harry just _knew_ he would become a baker in the future, if not relating to one. He could only compare the boys love and passion for baking to his own fondness and love of his job at the ministry–– and that said a lot. Harry loved his job dearly.

The next thirty minutes had gone by with Julius staring at the baking cookies in determination, and with Amethyst telling Harry all about the magical dolls that Snape had bought her when they were last out shopping.

The only thing Harry knew of his seven year old daughter was that she was a real talker and that she loved dolls. She talked _a lot,_ and had a rather extensive vocabulary for a girl her age. Amethyst loved dolls fiercely, as she proved repeatedly when she was talking about them to Harry. From what she told him, the child had over a hundred dolls in the play room, and thirty five special edition ones on a shelf in her room, that she had never opened. It was also surprising to see that Amethyst had enough control to not open a present, even though she was just a child. He never thought that children could hold such determination and passion. Sure, he knew they weren't stupid. When he was a kid, he was well more aware than his piglet cousin was, and smarter, too.

But seeing their brilliance right before his eyes, was… well, it was shocking. The pride that welled up in his chest was extreme.

Forty-five minutes after the cookies were put to bake, the oven timer went off. Julius was up and ready so quickly that Harry hadn't even seen him stand, despite the fact that he had been watching him. Julius quickly pulled on his oven mittens, pulled the hot, steaming tray out, and onto the shortened kitchen table.

Harry looked over at the cookies, back to Julius, and then frowned. The cookies were a huge mess–– disordered and clumsy looking, from all the extra ingredients that were added. But still, Julius was smiling at them fondly, as if he were looking at a masterpiece. Well, to Harry, they certainly didn't _look_ edible…

He was pulled out of his thoughts, when something began to poke him on his side.

"Hurry up before they cool, Dad!" Julius whined, impatiently.

Harry looked down at him, perplexed.

"Hurry what up, Jules?" He asked, stupidly.

Julius frowned, and said eagerly, "The spell!"

It was Harry's turn to frown.

"What spell?"

"The _Formus_ spell, Dad! To make the cookies look neater!"

Still not fully understanding what Julius was going at, Harry nodded, anyways. Hoping that he didn't muck it up, Harry pulled out his wand from his back pant pocket, and muttered _Formus, _at the batch of cookies. Instantly, the molds of clump began to reform and re shape, and in it's stead, was a batch of flat, perfect yellow cookies, that held no indication that there were countless ingredients mixed in them.

"They look great," Harry breathed, surprised, and nearly drooled when the scent of the cookies filled his nostrils.

"They do," Julius beamed, "But they'll taste much better. I'm an expert!"

Chuckling gingerly, Harry reached over and snagged a cookie from the tray, a little surprised that they were no longer torridly hot.

"_I'm _supposed to have one first, Dad!" Julius cried indignantly, and tried to snatch the cookie away. Harry, with his innate seeker reflexes, flexed his hand back just in time for Julius to miss it. Grinning wickedly, Harry stuffed the entire cookie–– which was the size of two whole galleons––into his mouth, and hummed appreciatively, while never taking his eyes off Julius as he did so.

Julius pouted and stomped his little foot on the floor in annoyance, before he _harrumphed_, turned his back on his father, and snatched a cookie of his own. Amethyst followed suit.

They really were incredible. They were soft and moist, and melted into his mouth in a delicious way. He could taste the blend of chocolate and vanilla, and though he couldn't pin point the exact other ingredients by taste, he knew what they were. They had a distinct taste, but where overpowered by the overall use of the vanilla and chocolate. It was a perfect balance.

Harry shouldn't have been surprised that a seven year old managed to bake something so incredible, after all that he had seen of Julius in the kitchen, but he still was.

The group sat themselves on the table, and began to eat right off the tray, but not before saving a couple of them for Severus, which Harry found rather endearing. It was quiet and peaceful. It was calm and comfortable.

And then it happened in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, Julius began to choke. At first, Harry had thought that it had probably just went down the wrong pipe, and so he moved over to pat him on the back, but stopped short when he got a closer look at what was happening.

Julius was clutching at his throat desperately, and his eyes had gone red and wide. His pale face was quickly turning pink, and he was gasping uncontrollably.

Harry panicked.

It took Amethyst to start screaming, to pull Harry out of his frozen state, and when he did, the first thing he did was scream, "Severus!"

Remembering that the man was still in his lab, Harry rushed over and grabbed Julius, who was growing redder and redder by the moment. He grabbed Amethyst's hand, who had started crying, and ordered her to hang on tight. As soon as she nodded, Harry apparated right outside Snape's door.

"Severus!" He screamed again, and barged into the room, slamming the door with enough force to shake the walls.

Snape was sitting at a desk covered with papers when he looked up with a scowl, but soon dropped it and rose quickly when he saw the state of Julius–– twitching and choking in Harry's arms, as if he couldn't breathe.

And by the blue hue his face was taking, Harry was sure that he couldn't.

"Help!" Harry screamed, frantically, as Snape rushed over to him and pulled Julius into his arms. He lay Julius on the floor, pale, and demanded, "What's wrong? What happened?!"

Snape was shouting, but he didn't care.

"I don't know," Harry cried, quickly, "We were just downstairs eating cookies, when Julius just… just… became like _that!" _

Snape ran his finger through his black locks eagerly, and demanded, "What did he eat?"

"What?" Harry cried, anxious.

"What the hell did he eat, Harry? What was in the cookies?!"

Harry took a deep breath and tried to recall everything that they had mixed into the dough. It was hard to do, but he knew that if he continued to panic as he was, he wouldn't be able to speak coherently.

"Vanilla, Chocolate, peppermint, caramel, almond––"

"YOU GAVE HIM ALMONDS?!" Snape screamed, shutting Harry up immediately, "HE'S DEATHLY ALLERGIC, YOU IDIOT! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!"

Snape left Harry standing there, dumbstruck, as he vanished through a door. He came back a second later with a long vial of some bluish-green liquid, ran to Julius, and poured the potion down his mouth, and into his closed throat.

Immediately, Julius let out a gasp of raspy air. His chest started rising and falling quickly, but he was slowly starting to loose the suffocated color his face had taken. Julius's eyes shot open, and he began to cry hysterically.

Harry watched with wide eyes as Snape picked the boy up from the floor, and embraced him tightly.

"You're okay," Snape whispered to Julius, as he rocked him back and forth in his arms. Amethyst was on her knees, sobbing, beside them. "You'll be okay. You're all better, Jules. We need to take you to St. Mungo's, but you're going to be just fine. Shh… you're okay…" He continued to try and soothe the boy, as he raced around the room lab with him still in his arms, grabbing things and pocketing them, for later use.

"Amethyst." Snape called sharply, but not angrily. The little girl immediately clambered to her feet, and rushed to grab her fathers' outstretched hand. In seconds, all three of them were gone.

Harry, still in a daze, followed right after.

* * *

Harry hated hospitals.

He watched from a far corner in the small room as midi witches and healers began to administer various potions into his son, and started checking him for any internal damage.

Harry watched in silence, too afraid, too ashamed, to say anything. Within minutes, Julius had fallen asleep, as well as Amethyst, who had special privilege to sleep in a bed beside her brother.

Harry continued to watch in silence, even as the Healers came up to Snape, and gave him their final diagnosis.

"He'll be fine, Mr. Snape-Potter," The older, graying man told Snape. Snape let out a sigh of relief, even though he was sure that that would have been the case. The healer gave him a small smile, and continued, "Julius was lucky that you were able to give him that potion to the Laryngospasm as soon as you did. If you had waited even a little longer, he could have died, or at least would have suffered internal injuries to his throat and lungs."

Harry went cold as the words left the man's lips.

He had almost killed his son.

He had almost….

"There was some strain to his trachea, vocal cords, and esophagus, but we've been able to heal them. We've also administered the potion to prevent any anaphylactic shock that might come. He's just resting off the shock of the whole event, now. You'll be able to take him home as soon as he wakes up."

Snape nodded, and gave the shorter doctor a grateful smile, not even caring that he did so. He was far too relieved. As soon as the healer left, Snape gave another glance at his two sleeping children, and headed out of the room for a breather.

As soon as Harry saw Snape leaving, he immediately followed after. He didn't know why he did, exactly, but his legs moved all on their own. Perhaps he wanted to tell Snape that he was sorry. That he didn't mean to give him almonds. That he didn't mean to almost kill their son. That he didn't _know._ But he needed to tell him something, anything, before he broke from the guilt. As soon as Snape stepped out into the hall, Harry reached out and grabbed onto his arm.

"Sever––_SMACK!" _

Everything in the hall went silent as the sound of a hand upon flesh rang out. People stopped to stare at the two–– one who was glaring furiously with his arm outstretched, and the other who had his head turned from the impact, and whose cheek was quickly growing red.

Harry tasted the metallic bittnerness of blood in his mouth, and slowly raised his hand to his cheek. He winced as his finger pressed upon the sore, burning and aching flesh, and turned to look at Snape, stunned.

"You almost killed him!" Snape shouted, angrily, spittle flying as he spat murderously, "You almost killed our son! What the hell where you thinking! You know! You know he's deathly allergic to nuts! How could you be so fucking careless! And you call yourself his father!" Snape was breathing hard as he finished, his usually pale face red from anger, and his hands clenched in irate fists.

For a long time, the two continued to stare at each other, just like that.

Without permission, tears began to fall from Harry's eyes.

And just as instantly, Snape's anger began to falter.

"I didn't know," Harry whispered, half to himself and half to Snape. He was shaking; in anger, in guilt, in desperation. "I didn't know," he whispered again, more brokenly. "I didn't remember…"

"Harr––"

"I DIDN'T FUCKING KNOW!" Harry screamed, and Disapparated out of St. Mungo's as soon as his tears began to fall.

He didn't know where he was headed, exactly, which was extremely dangerous and not very smart–– considering all the things that could happen. But Harry didn't care. He just needed to get out of there. He needed to run, if only for a moment, away from what he had caused. He needed time to calm and collect himself.

He needed to get away.

Before his guilt would start to consume him.

* * *

It was a clear, beautiful day. The sky sparkled iridescently, in a mirage of blues and whites, and the sun shone high and bright, leaving a lukewarm heat upon it's residents.

The streets of Diagon Alley, much to his surprise, were rather empty. He paid the woman and smiled, and the large bundle was placed in his hands.

"Come again," the short saleswoman called cheerfully, as he walked out of the small flower store and out into the clear, sunny day–– which was a rarity itself, since the majority if Britain afternoons were spent underneath cold, gloomy skies.

Green eyes looked up and winced, as the brightness of the sun shone in his eyes. With a sigh, he tucked the bundle of blue underneath his arms, and got ready to apparate.

He inhaled softly and Harry felt a jolt within his body, and a tremor within the air, as if he were jumping time. The feeling was over in mere seconds, however, and Harry was soon standing before a very large, and very familiar house.

It had been three months since the incident with Julius had happened. It had been three months since Harry had lived in that house.

After he had managed to calm himself down, Harry just couldn't bring himself to return there. Not after all he had done. He stayed with Hermione and Ron for two days, until he felt he was ready to talk to Snape.

As soon as he had apparated into the house, his whole family had come rushing in at him.

For the first time in his life, or, the first he could remember, rather, Snape had cried. He had cried as he embraced Harry tightly, and apologized profusely. Of course, Harry didn't blame him for acting as he did–– he had nearly killed their son. It was Harry who needed to apologize.

Julius never gave him the chance. Actually, the little seven year old boy had whacked Harry straight in his nose right in the middle of his apology. He told him that it wasn't his fault, that he just couldn't remember. It appeared that Snape and the twins had talked about what had happened to Harry, and though they had cried, according to Snape, they weren't mad at him or upset. They agreed, that if Harry never got back his old memories, they would help him to make new ones.

Harry nearly cried at that.

It was then that Harry told them that he would be staying away for a while. They protested, argued and pleaded, of course–– but Harry wouldn't change his mind. Despite them forgiving him, Harry didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself entirely. Not for almost killing his son.

But he needed time to think. And he needed even more than that to work on the _Mnemosyne_. Harry spent the majority of his time at his department at the ministry, with Hasburry and Ivory, trying to unlock the rest of the clues about the dark artifact, and studying it further. Harry spent weekends at the house, though, and spent as much time with the twins as he could–– even if it was only two or three hours a day. His remaining time was spent at the Ministry, or at a hotel near it.

Harry's pockets felt heavy. His suitcases, though minimized, were just as heavy as they would have been at average size. His eyes were bright with anxiety, and black hair slightly longer than it had been a couple of weeks ago.

Exhaling deeply, Harry knocked on the door to his manor, and waited patiently with his hands behind his back, for someone to come.

In moments, the door had opened, and revealed a very surprised looking Snape.

"Harry?" Snape questioned, surprised, since Harry would usually just apparate into the house directly.

"Hello, Severus." Harry greeted, smiling widely.

"Is there something wrong?" He asked again, cautiously.

Harry just continued to smile. Ah, this was the best part.

"Do you remember the evening we got back together after Helda Harmstroth broke up with me because I was a "horrible lay", and how I told you that I could never gain as much emotional or physical pleasure from anyone, as I could with you? Do you remember the night you asked me to marry you, after your destructive attempt to make me a candle-lit dinner, personally? Do you remember on our wedding night, when you and I made love under the moonlit sky at a private beach in the Mediterranean? How you told me that I was far more fare, far more beautiful that the moon could ever hope to be. Do you remember our honeymoon in Hawaii, and when we attended a secret ceremony for lovers? Do you remember that, Severus?"

Snape stared at Harry with wide eyes, as truths and secrets only they knew poured sweet from his lips, like honey.

"Remember when I, on experimentation, bought my first cock ring, at that sex shop in muggle London? Or when you tied to me to a tree in our backyard, after you fed me nearly an ounce of aphrodisiac? Remember when we found the twins at that orphanage, and at that moment, we knew that they would be ours? When we went away by ourselves for a week when the kids where three, and then four, to the place where we had our honeymoon? Remember how you always bite just underneath my collar bone, or nip at my earlobe–– my most sensitive spots? Remember when you hold me at night, and whisper reassuring things in my ears when I have nightmares of the final battle? Or how we film all of our most heated S&M plays?

"Remember when I told you that never in this world would I ever be able to find someone to love, more than I love you? And how you are my heart, my world, my everything–– and how no matter what would happen, or what would come between us, we would be together in the end, because you're my soul mate, and I am yours?"

Both Harry and Snape had glistening tears running down their face, as some of their most sweetest, most loving memories and recollections came alive in their minds. As feelings, old and new, came rushing into them, to a point that it was so pleasantly painful.

"Ha––"

Before Snape could open his mouth to say the words that Harry knew were coming, to reaffirm what had obviously been done, Harry removed his hands from his back and pushed the bundle into Snape's arms.

With tears still running down his cheeks, Snape looked down at the bundle–– a bouquet of violet flowers with yellow pollen, wrapped in silver and gold cloth. The smell was amazing, and tantalizingly sweet. It smelled of flowers. It smelled of love. It smelled of reminiscence.

Snape could obviously identify the flowers, because he held them gently in his hands and murmured, "Forget me not, Harry?"

Smiling beautifully, Harry fell into Snape's arms and kissed the older man passionately. Their mouths burned and moved together, and their tongue's twirled, tasted and danced. Snape's hold on Harry was so tight, so possessive, as if he feared that he would let go, and Harry would once again be out of his reach.

Harry suckled on Snape's lower lip sweetly as he pulled away, and green eyes looked into obsidian orbs, with such love, such adoration in them that it was hard to breath.

"Never."

* * *

_**Forget Me Not,**_

_**A Life We've shared,**_

_**An infinity of tenderness,**_

_**And Blue,**_

_**Atop a Garden,**_

_**Of Misty Green,**_

_**A Memory,**_

_**That Can't Be Recalled.**_

_**Forget Me Not,**_

_**For We Have Loved,**_

_**For We Have Bore**_

_**For We Have Been,**_

_**Above All Else,**_

_**And So Much More,**_

_**Than What Your Memory,**_

_**Consists.**_

_**Forget Me Not,**_

_**For We Have Breathed,**_

_**The Same Soft Breath,**_

_**The Same Sweet Scent,**_

_**Our Fingers Laced,**_

_**And Intertwined,**_

_**A Violet Ribbon,**_

_**Drenched In Love.**_

_**Forget Me Not,**_

_**For We Have Been,**_

_**One,**_

_**A whole,**_

_**A Being,**_

_**Together We've Made**_

_**Memories,**_

_**Recollections,**_

_**We Reminisce,**_

_**And We Remain,**_

_**So Forget Me Not,**_

_**And Remember.**_

* * *

**THE END.**

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**A/N: It's finished! 75 pages of smiles! -grins brilliantly- What a joy this was to write! I've had a blast with this story. I'm really surprised that I managed to sum it all up into two parts, actually. When I first thought of writing this, it was meant to be a longer fic, probably around 5-10 chapters. But alas, I didn't have the time. Still, I'm quite proud of this. **

**Thank you for reading "Forget Me Not!" **

**~Reiko Katsura**

**1/06/09**

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**(1)** Life-threatening food allergies (most commonly to nuts, peanuts, or shellfish) can kill children in two ways. The first is called laryngospasm. As the food is swallowed, it produces immediate swelling that spreads to the vocal cords. If the vocal cords swell shut, the child is unable to breathe and dies with terrifying rapidity. The second mechanism is called anaphylactic shock. The child swallows and digests the food and, as long as two hours later, goes into shock and dies.

**(2)** I love the name "Amethyst". That's why I chose it, really. I would name my child that. It's a beautiful name. I was going to shorten it to "Amy", but I decided not to.

**(3)** Poem is written by myself. It's titled "Forget Me Not". Steal it, I will shoot you.

**(4) **In case your wondering, the flowers that Harry bought Snape are called "Forget Me Not's". They're beautiful flowers. One of my fave types.

**(5)** I didn't mention this in the story, but the effects of the Mnemosyne actually wore off in the end, rather than the Department managing to fine a way to cure the effects.

***In the Future, this may be revised and/or lengthened to add some more Harry/Snape romance aspects in it. In the event that I actually accomplish this, I will add an extra chapter itself to notify you that the changes have been made. Add this story to story alerts if you wish to read this again, revised, at a later time.***

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**Thank you.**


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